The Backpack
by Sweaty Tiddies
Summary: In 1981, a teenage girl is murdered outside her home. Without any solid evidence, the case grows cold and decades pass without it being touched on again. In 2013, Mikey and Don are exploring an abandoned tunnel when Mikey comes across an old backpack containing a journal. Now he wants to know who killed Allison Blackwell and why.
1. The Finding

**I love TMNT and I love true crime, especially cold cases so I thought I'd combine the two.**

* * *

 **The Backpack**

 **Chapter One:**

 **The Finding**

 **May 20, 1981**

 _Nineteen-year-old Allison Blackwell left her friend's house later than she had expected, but it wasn't as if her parents would care. End of the year testing would be around the corner and she was nowhere near prepared. She regretted all the partying she'd done, but the stress was weighing down on her._

 _She did not want to be twenty and still in high-school. The very thought was giving her anxiety. Even though it wasn't her fault she fell ill with pneumonia and missed half the year of school the previous year, it didn't stop her parents from riding her back about finishing school on time. She knew the real reason was so they could have one less kid to look after. Her parents had never been interested in raising children, but there wasn't much she could do about it._

 _Something about the night air was making her uneasy. Maybe it was the full moon or maybe it was the fact the night before she got strange phone calls while studying. Allison wasn't sure; all she knew was that she had to pick up the pace. As she turned the corner, she almost bumped into a couple too lost in each other to pay attention to where they were going. Allison apologized and continued on her way._

 _The streets were always fairly empty in this area, with one or two people outside. Sometimes an elderly woman would sit on her balcony watching the nightlife, but the only creatures out that night were strays and New York's infamous overgrown rats. She almost shrieked when one of the disgusting creatures darted passed her and hoped into a storm drain. She muttered a swear, adjusted her orange backpack, and kept going._

 _Minutes later, she arrived at her door and breathed a sigh of relief. She looked all around her before bending down and lifting the flower pot where her house key was hidden. She slipped the key into the handle and turned until it clicked. Slowly, she pushed the door open as to not awaken her parents or little brother. Allison poked her head into the house and listened out for any sounds of movement._

 _In the alley, a trash can fell over, causing Allison to almost jump out of her skin. She looked to her left and saw the garbage spilled out onto the street. She felt silly at her own jumpiness as a white cat ran down the street, before quickly becoming annoyed at the contents she would have to pick up. She gave an exasperated sigh and shut the door._

 _As she bent down to pick up the trash, unaware of the shadowy figure stepping out of the alley. Swiftly and silently they moved toward her as she finished picking up the garbage on the ground. In one quick move, they grabbed her by the backpack and hauled her to her feet. Before she could comprehend what was happening, someone clamped a hand over her mouth. Whoever had her dragged her back into the shadows, but she thrashed about in an attempt to free herself. However, her assailant only tightened their hold on her as someone pulled her into the alley by her house. The two wrestled in the darkness. Allison bit her attacker's hand until they let go. She tried to scream, but a hard shove to her back cut her off and knocked her to the ground._

 _Allison fell to her hands and knees, too stunned to think straight. She rolled on to her back and looked up to see a familiar face looming over her. Her blue eyes widened as she looked up at the person she believed to be her friend. The attacker was on top of her now, pinning her down with their weight. She tried wiggling free but found it was no use._

" _Why are you doing this?" Allison whispered. "I thought you liked me…"_

 _Their only reply was wrapping their hands around her slender throat. She kicked and tried to pry their hands loose from her neck, but it was useless. After several moments of choking and gasping, Allison weakened until she eventually lost all strength and her body stilled. The killer didn't take pressure off her windpipe until they were certain she was dead._

 _Slowly, the killer rose to their feet, took the backpack from her lifeless body, and fled the scene._

* * *

 **2013**

"Are we even close to being done?" Mikey asked Donatello for the hundredth time that day.

Donnie was regretting bringing along Mikey for this task, but he had been the only brother willing to help Donnie. Leo was busy training as usual and Raph was in another funk.

They made their way down the old abandoned subway tunnels, that Donnie had discovered only days earlier. They could come in handy and it was important for every area to be mapped out for their own safety.

Judging by the architecture and the state of decay, Donnie would have guessed that the old tunnels were last used in the early twentieth century. While Mikey was bored to tears, Donnie was looking over the area, taking notes, and marking their trail as they went along the way.

Mikey checked the time on his newly updated shell-cell and stifled a groan. They had been out here for hours. His feet hurt, his stomach begged for pizza, and the last of his water was gone. He wished he never agreed to this. He checked his email again just in case someone left a review on his Silver Century fan fiction. So far no one had left anything. Not a review or at the very least a follow. How lame.

As if his brainiac brother could read his mind, Donnie said, "Give it time, Mikey, someone will say something and yes, I know you've been writing fan fiction."

Michelangelo felt his face heat up. "No, I don't! I just read it, that's all!" He stuffed his phone back into the pocket of his belt.

They made it to a long-forgotten station where the orange masked turtle plopped down on the ground to rest. Donnie rolled his eyes in annoyance. He took out his bo staff and whacked Mikey on the head.

"Ow! What the shell, Don?" Mikey whined.

"Get up, knucklehead, and help me out here."

Michelangelo slowly stood up and took out a can of spray paint to mark the trail. He painted over the graffiti left behind long ago. He had to admit, some stuff written on the walls were slightly disturbing.

"We were the only survivors. Everyone else is dead," Mikey read aloud. "Creepy…"

Even Donnie, who typically remained calm, agreed that it was an unsettling find.

"Look around for anything useful and keep both eyes and ears open. You never know who or what could be down here with us," Donnie said.

Mikey shined his flashlight down a dark tunnel and slowly made his way down it. He swallowed nervously as he looked around the old tunnel. To his right was more graffiti art, including the well known _Kilroy was here_ and something he had never seen before: "Children shouldn't play with dead things." That was strange and also disturbing.

On his left side, he noticed a maintenance room that hadn't been used since the days of the jitterbug. He pushed open the door, all the while cringing as the rusty hinges moaned and screeched. The light didn't work, but he didn't expect it to. Shining his flashlight into the room, revealed old rusted tools on metal shelves. Nothing useful in here.

Then he saw it tucked away behind an old broom. A dirty orange backpack trimmed with gray was leaning against the brick wall. It was an odd item to find. Did they have backpacks in the early nineteen hundreds? This door didn't look as if it had been open in decades, but the backpack looked as if it was recently placed there. Curiosity got to him so Mikey stepped inside and reached down for the bag. Picking it up revealed it to be heavier than he thought. He shook the bag to make sure they didn't have any body parts. In the back of his mind, he knew it was ridiculous, but all those true crime shows Leo and Splinter liked to watch made him paranoid.

Luckily all he heard were old books inside. Placing the bag on the workbench, he opened it, curious to know what was inside. He unzipped it slowly, peeked inside, and took out two textbooks one algebra, the other biology, a copy of _The Outsiders_ by SE Hinton from a school library, and a journal. All of them had Allison Blackwell written on the first pages. He heard of the Hinton person before, only because Raph loved both the book and movie. Opening it, he saw Abraham Lincoln High School stamped in bold, red letters. Checking the dates showed the book was last checked out in May of '81. This book is ancient, Mikey thought. Shutting the book, he placed back in the bag and flipped through the pages of the textbooks, but nothing of interest was in those except a crude drawing of a penis in the algebra book. He opened the journal next, wanting to know who this bag could have belonged to. Part of him knew it was wrong to read such personal and intimate entries, but his curiosity continued to gnaw at him.

On the first page someone had written: _To Allison: I know it's hard not having a proper place to vent, but even you need to and I'm not around, use this journal for your thoughts and get well soon!. - Mrs. Spence._

Opening the next page, this Allison girl wrote her first entry. Her spelling wasn't the best, but neither was his.

 _June/5th/1980_

 _So miss Spence came by the hospital gave me this journal to help me with my thoughts. Hope she never has to read this or she'll run for the hills or have me admitted… or both. I dunno what to say exactly. Today was test day for my friends, but I'm still here recovering from fuckin pnemoinia. At least I'm doing better and the doctor said I can go home in a few days if things progress the way they do. I hate being sick and I want my bed back. Mom and Dad don't visit much, but Aunt Kathy did yesterday and she brought Sam and Maria with her! That made me feel better. Guess I better go, the nurse is here with my lunch and pills._

He moved on to the next entry, ready to read it until-

"Mikey, what are you doing? Someone's down here and we need to hide!"

Donnie's voice snapped Mikey from the journal. Stuffing the books back into the backpack, he grabbed it and left the room with the door wide open. The brothers took cover in a ticket booth. Whistling carried down the tunnels, telling them the individual was getting closer and most likely male. Footsteps splashed in puddles and clacked on the metal of old railing. Whoever they were, they knew their way around this area.

Against Don's pleading, Mikey peeked over the booth and spied the person making their way to the door. Whoever they were, they stood tall with a chubby body hidden under a baggy hoodie and black jeans. The person stopped at the door and gasped. The hood on the jacket fell revealing a man with dark hair. The man rushed inside and he could hear stuff being thrown around as they frantically searched for the backpack.

Placing the bag back in its original spot crossed Mikey's mind, but then… why would a grown man need a teenage girl's backpack? The only reason he could think of was a keepsake, but why leave it down here to rot from moisture? Something about this wasn't right.

He moved in for a better look, but his brother grabbed his wrist.

"What are you doing?" Donnie hissed.

Mikey lowered himself back down and waited for the stranger to leave. After a furious cry, the intruder stormed out of the storage closet, slamming the door shut. His footsteps were harder this time as they ran away from the scene. As his footsteps faded away, Don was the first to check if the coast was clear.

"I think he's gone. Let's get back home and tell the others," Don said. "I wonder what that was about."

He held up the bag. "Uh… I may have taken something that wasn't his," Mikey replied sheepishly.

"You did what?! You can't take something that doesn't belong to you!"

"Calm down, Don. I know that and I was gonna give it back, but this bag doesn't belong to him either. It's some girl named Allison."

"Then give it back to Allison. Is there a last name?"

"Blackwell. I thought if I looked up her name, I could give it back. It's weird it's down here, though."

"Hmm… that is strange. There are graffiti down here, which would tell me kids frequented in this area a lot."

"I'm keeping it until I find her."

Donnie nodded. "Sure, but that thing is old and gross."

Adjusting the strap, he slung the bag over his shoulder and followed Don back the way they came. He was unaware of the mystery he would soon embark on.


	2. The Journal

**Apologies for Mikey being OOC. I wanted to portray him as a little more mature as he's 25 in this fic and I wanted him closer to his comic incarnation. Don't worry, he'll still have his goofball moments. ;)**

 **On a side note: I think Grammarly hates Allison XD (and me)**

* * *

 **The Backpack**

 **Chapter Two:**

 **The Journal**

Once Mikey and Don returned, the rest of his day went by as usual. They ordered takeout, watched TV, played video games, and Mikey wrapped up the latest chapter of his novel, "A Rose Among Thorns", before bed. They spent the next day training before he spent the rest of the day sitting in front of his computer working on his Silver Sentry fan fiction, "Into the Night". He checked his emails again, hoping someone would recognize his work, but still nothing. Four chapters in and still not even a follow. Maybe it was as bad he feared or maybe because it wasn't a romance, no one was interested.

 _Maybe I should cave and write a romance but that wouldn't be right since I know the guy personally._

Michelangelo wanted to become a writer shortly after the defeat of Tengu Shredder. He didn't know why the idea suddenly came to him but when it did; he had to write right away. In the past, he made his own comics, drawing pictures of him and his brothers as superheroes. Comics were easy, he could draw what he wanted and bring his work to life through visuals, but writing it? That was a challenge on its own. It was difficult at first because his spelling and grammar were far from perfect, but with April's help, his writing improved quickly. She bought him spiral notebooks and pens. He wanted a typewriter but the loud _click-clack_ of the buttons would disturb his brothers and they were the last people in the world he wanted knowing he was writing. All genres interested him, even romances, as he was used to reading about them in comics.

Last year, April surprised him with a laptop for him to transfer his writing onto. It was a secret gift at first, as she knew how his brothers could be. Eventually, they found out but to his surprise, his brothers expressed their support for him. Although Raph would occasionally tease him about it, the red turtle wasn't malicious when he did so.

It was with his laptop he discovered something called fan fiction. It fascinated him what others could come up with, some of it was so bad it was funny, while others weirded him. He'd never get the mental image of Silver Sentry having… relations with Raptarr out of his head. But nothing could be any worse than the awful Michael Bay Justice Force movie that only came out the previous year. He would forever stay salty about that.

As he sat at his desk with a toothpick in his mouth, he fought against the writer's block that sometimes plagued him. He checked the time and groaned. It was past midnight. He thought by now he would've written more than just "chapter five". Sighing, he gave up and clicked out of the Docs page.

Glancing at the journal, Mikey thought of the man in the tunnels and the odd behavior he exhibited. Guilt briefly flashed within him for taking the bag. Maybe it truly belonged to him or at least someone related to him, but he couldn't figure out why he would place the backpack so far underground. He grabbed the journal and opened it again, wondering who this girl was. He read another entry before Googling her name.

 _June/8th/1980_

 _I guess I aint goin home any time soon. My fever spiked again. This time is was too high and the doc warned of brain damage if it gets too high again. I think that's funny cuz it can't do no more damage than what my brain already has. At least Mom and Dad came to visit today. If you could call it a visit. They brought me food from Deenie's Diner witch was awsome! They asked how I was feelin and shit, but then once the clock struck 12 they were gone again. Said they had an important place to go. I guess their own kid aint important. Sam called the hospital and we talked for a bit. That brat drives me crazy but I love him. He better not ever read this! I guess that's all for now._

Mikey closed the journal, noting how her writing reminded him of Raph's.

He typed in her name, expecting to see her address and nothing more, but instead, he learned she was dead and had been since '81 and not only dead but murdered. The links that were provided to him gave details on the events that happened. His arrow hovered over the link of the first article as he took in what he was seeing. Above the links were photos of her. This was something he didn't expect and seeing her face made this even more surreal.

She was pretty with an oval face, round nose, blue eyes, and long, straight auburn hair. In one photo of her smiling she had dimples and in another, she had a nose and lips piercings with dyed black hair. She must've been going through some weird phase, Mikey thought. Probably something Raph would do if he were human.

 _She was too pretty to die._ His conscience quickly chimed in. _And what if she were ugly? Would it still be a tragedy or is it only sad when pretty girls die?_

He clicked the link to the first article and read about the night she died. On May, 20th 1981, the nineteen-year-old left her friend's house later than usual. Her friend, Marcy Gales, offered to let Allison stay the night, but the older girl declined. Detectives believe someone jumped her as she walked up to the steps to her Brooklyn home, as her keys were still in the door when her body was found the next day. It was then they believe she put up a fight as her attacker tried dragging her into the alley and strangling her. Authorities had two possible suspects but names were not given. He backed out of the article and clicked on another. It told him the same thing, so he went to another. Nothing told him much more than when and how she was killed, but there was one article that mentioned the strange phone calls. Unfortunately, when he looked further into it, there wasn't much else.

He went back to the image search of her wanting to see more photos and surprised and saddened that the crime scene photos were there for everyone to see. Maybe it wasn't too shocking. Still, he found it disrespectful. He grimaced at the sight of her body. Someone had pulled the white sheet that covered her halfway, exposing her face. Her eyes were partially open, one arm laid across her torso, and the other at her side. With the sheet on her, it almost looked as though she were sleeping. More photos of the crime scene were an up-close look of the marks around her neck. He didn't need to be an armchair detective to see that someone used their own two hands to finish her off.

After seeing more than he wanted, he closed the tab.

 _That's enough internet for me._ He thought as he shut his computer.

He went in expecting to find her address and give back her old things, only to have his heart torn at the news of her death. Shaking his head, he pushed away from his desk and stood to stretch. He grabbed the journal and flopped on his bed next to Klunk. The aging feline lifted his head and glared at Mikey for disturbing before laying his head back down. He gave the tom a pat on the head and opened the journal.

The next two entries were not of much interest. She detailed her stay at the hospital and mentioned her Aunt Kathy again. It was odd, here he was reading the accounts of a dead girl. Her last year on this earth all documented in this worn diary.

 _June/15th/1980_

 _I'm so glad to be home. Two days ago the hospital let me go, but I didn't get to go until yesterday because my so called parents said they were too busy to pick me up! Well I'm home now I guess… I'm not even gonna bother goin back to school. It only has three weeks left. What's the point? I already know I'm not graduating this year. Should I even bother goin back at all? I can always get me a GED and go to a trade school. Maybe I can be a vet tech or something. I love animals. People… not so much._

 _June/16th/1980_

 _Mom and Dad had a fight. I don't know who broke the TV but I'm disappointed in them both. I just got home! Jesus Christ this is why I'm never gettin married. To hell with that._

 _June/20th/1980_

 _Got some of my strength back so I decided to go for a walk. Mom said to take it easy. I said I'd try. Anyways made it to the park and I'm sittin there with a soda in my hand and I see this tanned girl on roller blades. She stops at the water fountain and I don't know how to explain it, but I felt funny lookin at her. Like I only get this feelin lookin at boys. What does it mean? Anyway she was pretty. Her hair was black and glossy and her eyes were like a reddish brown. She walked over and began talkin to me out of the blue. I guess cuz I was starin. She said her name was Marcy and she just moved here from El Paso, TX three weeks ago. I couldn't imagine leavin New York for anyplace else. She said the kids in the south get out of school as early as May. Shit I wish we got outta school in May. Not fuckin July. Anyways we was talkin about random shit and she said that she's going to school at Lincoln high in Sept. I told her about missin too much school so I gotta repeat the 12th grade again and asked if we could sit together. This whole time were talkin I feel awkward. Diana and Ellie don't like new comers in our circle so we will see. Marcy was nice enough I guess. I wanted to talk longer with her, but I started to feel woozy so she walked me home. When we got to my door, she smiled at me as said: "I know where you live now. Maybe I'll come over sometime." I told her okay and she rolled away on her skates. I do hope she comes over. Diana and Ellie don't really come by anymore and since Karl broke up with me I've been feeling lonely._

Mikey's eyes grew heavy, and the words blurred and doubled. He shut the book and placed it in his nightstand before turning off the light. Klunk moved from his warm spot and crawled under the blankets with the orange masked turtle. His memory before falling asleep was stroking the cat's ginger fur.

He slept in longer than he wanted. Sometime close to noon he felt someone flick him in the face. He opened his eyes and a blurry image of blue and green stood over him.

"Wake up, Michelangelo!"

Mikey yawned and sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. "What's up, Leo?"

"You've slept long enough. It's time for training."

Mikey groaned but obeyed his older brother. Swinging his legs over the bed, he yawned again and stretched. Klunk hopped off the bed, annoyed with his owner for disturbing his sleep.

"Yeah, yeah I'm comin'," Mikey said running a hand over his face.

"Listen, I don't mind you want to follow your dream but you need to limit how much time you spend in front of the computer. I've lectured Don about it, I shouldn't have to lecture you too."

The orange turtle rose from the bed. "I get it, Leo, but sometimes, I feel an urge to write and I can't stop myself." He didn't bother adding that he had writer's block last night.

"Just… control yourself."

"I'll try," Mikey said with a tired sigh.

"Good. Now come on."

As he followed his brother out of his room, a cold chill ran down his shell, stopping him in his tracks. He froze in place, feeling another chill going down his arm. That was odd. He gave the nightstand one last glance before turning off the light to his room and shutting the door behind him.


	3. Distraction

**Apologies in advance if there are any errors. When I uploaded this doc it was covered in codes. I did my best to fix it but if there is any word omissions or typos; I missed them while proofreading. I'll make another sweep in the morning but for now, here's the delayed chapter 3. Another slow chapter but it'll pick up soon, I promise lol**

* * *

 **The Backpack**

 **Chapter Three:**

 **Distraction**

Fog hung over the city giving the street lights an eerie glow. The neighborhoods closest to the docks had little visibility because of this. Lars Williams, a long-time employee at the docks, leaned against a storage container with Korean letters on it. He stuck to the shadows, as he waited for the buyers to show. Two armored vans arrived with one practically dragging on the ground. The back doors flew open with a powerful blow from one of the occupants. The other drivers and passengers from the other vans froze as a large man stepped out of the back. The van creaked as his bulk left the vehicle and sprang up.

Lars stepped out of the shadows and approached the large man who was cracking his knuckles.

"You got my money, Hun?" he asked in a low tone.

Hun nodded in the van's direction. "You got our merchandise?"

Lars grinned. "Follow me."

They moved through a dimly lit and packed warehouse in a single line. Hun's wide frame barely had enough space to move between large crates.

"This better be worth it," Hun growled.

Lars ignored his leader's complaints and fished for the keys in his pocket. They winded through the containers until they made to the back of the warehouse where the locker rooms were. With a turn and a shove, the door opened, and he led the Purple Dragons inside.

"You're gonna love this, Hun. Pure, grade A, and Columbian. None of that hillbilly or ghetto trash you come across here in the US."

Lars glanced at Hun hoping for any sign of approval but the hulking man never changed his expression. Lars swallowed and opened one of the lockers.

"Here it is, man."

He pulled out a wooden rectangular box and gently laid it on the floor. Grabbing a crowbar, he opened the lid, revealing packages full of premium cocaine.

"Well?"

Without a word, Hun's massive paw grabbed for a block. Holding it up, he eyed it carefully before tossing it to a woman with a purple mohawk.

"Test it, Leesa," Hun ordered.

The woman gave a nod and made a small opening. She made a line on her knife and snorted the white powder. Her eyes dilated, she gave a small twitch and grinned.

"It sure as hell ain't drywall. This is the best stuff I've had in years!"

Hun took the brick back much to the woman's dismay.

"Is there any more?" Hun asked.

Lars nodded. "Come on, it's in this container," he said, pointing at a blue one.

An hour later, the Purple Dragons left with their supply. Lars gave a sigh of relief as he watched the vans pull away with Hun in the back. Going as far back as the early days, back when they were known as the Black Dragons, Lars had been with the gang, making him one of the oldest members next to Hun. There were a few others, but they were more or less retired. Only called on when truly needed. He wanted to say he was proud to have survived this long, but in truth, he regretted joining. It cost him a lot more than he'd bargained for. His friends stopped speaking to him and in his adult years, his girlfriend left him, making sure he never saw his son again. The dragons were supposed to be his family, but it didn't feel as if they were, at least not anymore.

But that was in the past now he waited for someone to come along and put him out of his misery.

* * *

In an unmarked, faded blue van, May O'Neil of Channel Six News, sat behind the wheel while eating a cold can of Spaghetti-Os and reviewing the footage she'd captured only an hour ago. Being light-footed and stealthy (thanks to cousin April), it was easy for her to slip inside the warehouse, climb onto a metal beam and recorded the Purple Dragons' drug deal. Once they finished, she slipped out as quickly as she came.

She was giddy as the footage ended. This would be the story that could take her to the top! For the last two years, they dismissed her as a ditzy girl at the studio, but after this, she could become a real reporter. No more stories on cats being rescued from trees, or buffalo wing eating contests. After tonight she would get to report real stories.

"You're going to anger a lot of people."

May almost forgot her co-worker, Vern Fenwick, was sitting in the passenger seat. He was a slimly built, skittish man with receding black hair. Although he was older than her by ten years, it didn't stop him from trying his luck a few times. She'd never say yes, and he knew it.

"Good," May replied.

"May, they won't take you seriously. Remember what Burne said…"

Oh, she remembered. The day she applied for an internship, Burne Thompson looked her in the eye and told her girls like she were too "cute" to be on TV. Not sexy, pretty, or beautiful, but cute. With her round face and button nose, her features were considered childlike, especially when she smiled and her dimples showed. Her auburn hair was long, coming down her mid-back, adding to her youthful appearance. She was told by one of the senior reporters to cut it at least shoulder length. At one point, she thought of getting a pixie cut, but in the end decided she'd never change her appearance, believing that her looks shouldn't matter and that it didn't affect her work ethic.

"Burne doesn't know what the hell he's talking about. In fact, I can do his job ten times better!"

"I'm not sure about that..."

She shrugged. "We'll see." she turned the key in the ignition, bringing the van to life. "I'm heading back to the station. Want to come along?"

Vern shook his head. "Drop me off at my place."

She agreed as she pulled out of the alley. In other situations, it would have annoyed her, but tonight she was too excited to care. This was going to take her to the top.

* * *

A few days passed since Mikey learned of Allison's murder and he still had told no one of his discovery. Who could he trust? Everyone would think he was crazy or a creep for keeping a dead girl's journal. Maybe he'd tell them eventually, but for now, he enjoyed having a secret.

On a foggy night, Mikey was at the scrap yard helping Donnie find a processor or motherboard or whatever it was. It didn't seem to matter because everything he found, Donnie said wasn't the right part. He was ready to give up and wait in the Battle Shell.

"With all the time you hover around me while I try to work, I thought you would've at least knew what it looked like," Donnie said.

"I like watching you put it together. Doesn't mean I understand or like hearing the technobabble," Mikey replied.

Don rolled his eyes and climb onto a large hill of junk.

"Careful, bro, I don't think our tetanus shots are up to date," Mikey said.

"I'm more careful than you! Go try that pile over there." Don pointed toward a small heap.

He did as he was told but groaned the entire time. Ten feet from him, he saw Raph and Leo pulling parts from an old motorcycle. Raph's bike was on the fritz again. His own shell cycle went unused and needed new tires. He thought of letting Raph use it for parts, but being nice to Raph wasn't very fun. At least they were looking for something interesting. He was stuck hunting for computer parts. What he wouldn't give to find a rare comic.

It bore him to tears, and he was ready to give up. There wasn't anything here that he recognized. It was tempting to gather it all into his arms and throw it at Don and say: "Here, you sort this junk out!". What he really wanted to do was go back home and read the journal. He needed to know what happened next. What her last year on this earth was like. He hoped that at least it was a good one but something told him it wasn't.

Since learning about Allison Blackwell, Mikey had a sudden drive to know more. He wanted to know why someone would take her life. This wasn't some random killing. Someone planned this and took the time to do so. Somewhere out there, someone knew something and Mikey would find out who. Only he didn't know how he would accomplish this.

"I found it!" Don said, holding up the computer part.

"About time!" Mikey replied. "Can we go now?"

Don raised a brow. "What's with you, Mikey? You normally love going out. Are you sick? Do I need to take your temperature?" There was a playfulness in Don's voice, but Mikey knew he was partly serious.

"I'm just bored that's all."

"Is your ADHD getting worse?"

"Funny."

"Lighten up!" Don said, patting Mikey's shell. "Wait… did I really just tell that to _you_? Is this the Twilight Zone?"

With their hunt over, Mikey followed his brothers back to the Battle Shell. When they made it back home, he retired to his room where the journal waited for him.

Leo watched Mikey go, curious as to what was bothering his little brother. Don and Raph stood on each of him, puzzled as well. This would be the time when Mikey plopped down on the couch with his favorite snacks and play video games until someone kicked him off. It concerned they as they couldn't think of a single reason he would suddenly feel this way. Each brother mentally retraced their steps, trying to see what could have happened, but none of them came up with anything.

Soft paw steps came from Splinter's room. The elder rat emerged from his room moving slower these days. Carrying his tray with his teapot and cups, he stopped at the site of his children gathered together. His whiskers twitched, sensing something was off.

"Where is Michelangelo?" Splinter asked, setting the tray aside.

The three brothers turned to face their sensei.

"In his room," replied Leo.

"Unusual," he commented.

"Very. Mikey's acting... strange and we don't know what to do about it."

Splinter had noticed but kept his distance from the issue. His sons were adults now which entitled them to their space. If they needed him, they could always come to him when ready. However, he felt in this instant; he needed to speak with Michelangelo.

"Has anyone upset him recently?"

All three shook their heads.

"We've taken jabs at him, but nothing too mean," Raph admitted. Guilt flickered in his eyes. It was brief but Splinter caught it right away. "I mean, no more than usual."

"Has he witnessed something upsetting?"

Again, they shook their heads.

"I will talk to him."

"We might as well go back to our own routines," Leo said.

"Whatever is bugging Mikey, I'm sure Splinter can handle it," Raph said.

With that, the three brothers went to their own corners of the lair. Leo finding a quiet spot for meditation, Raph going to his punching bag, and Don returning to his lab.

Don took his usual place in front of his computer with the new circuit board in hand. He turned on the computer and waited for it to load. He thought back to the day they went into that unexplored part of the tunnels. The weird graffiti, that maintenance closet, a stranger, the backpack. Don paused as he was about to type. The backpack. It was coming back to him. A random item couldn't be the reason for his brother's odd behavior, could it? He tried remembering the name on the bag, but his mind was blanking. It was Allison… something.

Swiveling his chair towards Mikey's door, he looked up at the closed door, hoping Splinter could figure this out.

* * *

 _July/4th/1980_

 _Watched the fireworks from the roof today. Sam was with me until his friend showed up. Mom and Dad went to a party with their friends. Called Diana and Ellie but neither were home. Ever since I got sick they both ignore me. Fuck em I guess. After the fireworks I went walking around the neighborhood and thats when I encountered Marcy again. She was on her roller blades with an ice cream cone in her hand. She asked what I was doing and I told her walking around. She wanted to know if I liked to hang out and I said sure. She confessed she didn't know much about the town so I decided to be her tour guide. The heat got to me again, but I brushed it off. I showed her around and introduced her to people in the neighborhood. Marcy was acting all shy witch I didn't understand when she approached me like it was nothin. Things went ok though. Til Lars showed up and started shit. I dont know what the fuck his problem is. He tried flirting with Marcy but she shot him down quick. Then he gets mad and calls her a slut so I punched him square in the nose. He fell back and gave me this look as he wiped blood from his face. I thought he'd fight me but instead he told me-_

A sharp knock at this door startled Mikey from the journal. He slammed it shut and set it aside.

"Come in!"

The door opened slowly. Splinter poked his head in before slipping the rest of his body through. Shutting the door behind him, he took his place beside Michelangelo and placed a paw on Mikey's shoulder. His sensei's touch was cold, making Mikey want to squirm away.

"Michelangelo, your brothers and I have noticed you acting strange lately. Is everything alright?"

Mikey nodded. "Everything's fine, Sensei."

"Are you sure? Has anything upset you, my son?"

Mikey blinked. "Upset me?" He almost laughed but seeing the serious look in Splinter's eyes kept him from doing so. "No, of course not. Why do you guys think something is wrong?"

"You are staying in your room a lot more lately. We want to make sure everything is okay."

"Oh, I see. I didn't realize I was doing it. I've started writing a lot more lately, and it's kept me distracted."

Guilt crept into him. He had not meant to make his family worry about him and it was partly true that his writing had him distracted. The laptop went into sleep mode, but Mikey didn't move the mouse to revive it.

Splinter stared at him as though he were trying to decide if he believed Mikey or not. His ears twitched, and he gave a nod. "Very well. If you need to talk, you know where I will be."

Mikey nodded. Splinter removed his paw and turned to leave. As he turned the handle, Mikey stopped him.

"Sensei, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Um… there sort of is something bothering me, but it's nothing major… I mean I guess it is but it's not like that… It's, uh, for my book."

Splinter's ears pricked. "Go on."

"Well, if someone was hurt a long time ago and everyone moved on from it… should someone still do something about it?"

Splinter looked at him for a moment before answering, "Yes, the person causing harm needs to be punished for their actions. No matter how much time has passed."

"Oh okay, then."

"Are we still talking about a book?"

Mikey nodded, afraid his voice would give him away. Splinter remained in the room for a few heartbeats longer before leaving. He watched his father leave then gave a sigh of relief. Picking up the journal, he returned where he left off.

 _He told me to meet him at an abandoned warehouse near Red Hook in two days. He said if I can throw a punch like that then I need to meet his friends. I dont know… I'm nervous but curious as to who his friends are. I think he might be in a gang. It does explan alot._

Mikey shut the journal. Opening his laptop, he searched for directions to Red Hook, a place he and his brothers visited once before. It made sense a gang would hide out in the area. The question was, which gang was it?

Looking up the directions, he realized it was a three-hour journey on foot. He could take the Battle Shell, but the trick would be to get his brothers in on it and already knew their answers.

 _If I want to know more, then I'll make a little trip by myself._

He needed to make a plan if he wanted to itch his curiosity. Rising from his chair, he decided to take a break for now. Raph was playing Mortal Kombat in the living area.

It was time for the Battle Nexus Champion to beat Raphie boy at his own game.


	4. The Black Dragons

**The Backpack**

 **Chapter Four:**

 **The Black Dragons**

 **July, 6th 1980**

This was a bad idea; she knew it and yet here she was walking towards the dilapidated warehouse. Not far was the grain terminal, a place she always believed to be haunted. A silo had fallen into the water and another looked as though it were ready to join it. With only the city lights behind it, it looked eerier. She was regretting this.

The waning crescent hanging in the sky didn't provide any light, making this idea even worse. Allison clicked on the flashlight, a large black metal one she swiped from a cop.

"You sure know how to show a gal a good time," Marcy whispered beside her.

"I have that way with girls."

Marcy scoffed.

"Even with this flashlight, I'm still afraid to walk through this grass."

"Grass ain't gonna hurt ya none."

"It's not the grass. It's what's in the grass. I don't want to step on a snake."

Marcy giggled. "Back in Texas, you'd stepped on a rattler by now."

She liked Marcy a lot, but she wasn't a fan of her southern drawl.

"That's not making me feel better," Allison said.

They finally reach a chain-link fence, Marcy almost smacking into it. Allison spotted a cut in the fence and motioned for Marcy to follow. Slipping through, they continued towards the warehouse. Lights and music spilled from the facility. Walking around the side of the building was Lars. She recognized his lanky figure and dark unkempt hair anywhere. Allison relaxed and picked up the pace. It was crazy to think that she was actually happy to see the spaz.

The moment her shoes hit concrete, relief washed over her.

"Ick, there's that guy again!" Marcy hissed.

"Who, Lars? Don't worry, I'll keep him in check."

This didn't seem to make Marcy feel better, but there wasn't much Allison could do about it. Lars was always a thorn in Allison's side. If he wasn't flicking her hair or pinching her rear, he was taunting her. She always had a few sharp words or a fist for him. It didn't seem to be working though. Maybe after tonight when she won this stupid cage match, he'd finally shut his mouth.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Marcy asked.

Allison stopped and turned to face her friend. She saw the concern reflecting in her eyes. "I'm going to show up that creep and maybe he'll finally leave me alone."

Marcy shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "It's just that you don't seem well."

"It was a long walk."

"True but you huffed and puffed the whole way here. What's wrong?"

There was no reason to hide it. "I was sick last winter, and I struggled to recover. Pneumonia spread into my spine, and it really fucked me up. Don't worry, I'm not contagious anymore, but I'm still feeling the effects."

"Allison, you need to be in bed. What are you doing running around town in your condition?"

Allison rolled her eyes. "I'm fine. The doctor said I need to build my strength back up and laying in bed won't help."

Marcy still didn't seem convinced but accepted it anyway. "Okay, but don't take any risks. I don't want my new friend dying one me."

They turned and continued towards the building. At the entrance, a tall and broad-shouldered African American boy stopped them. Allison thought she'd met him before but wasn't sure. He narrowed his eyes at the girls. Marcy shrunk away and hid behind Allison.

"What do you want?" the boy asked.

Before Allison could reply, a heavy arm draped around her. She jumped away and immediately was relieved to see it was Lars. Then she internally cringed at the idea of being relieved to see Lars.

"It's okay, Jeremy. They're with me," Lars said. He turned to wink at the girls who responded with their middle fingers. Lars flinched a little at that. "Anyways, Allison was invited. She's fighting tonight."

Jeremy's gaze flicked to Marcy. "And her?"

"Marcy is my support," Allison said.

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "You can't bring someone in just because they're your support."

"It's okay, I'm looking to join, too," Marcy hurriedly explained.

Allison spun around to face her friend. Marcy gave her a look that said, "trust me". She nodded and stayed quiet.

Jeremy gave Lars a nod. "Alright, they're in but you're responsible for them. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah," Lars said nonchalantly.

The girls followed Lars inside the building. Music blasted their ears, giving Allison a headache. As he led them down the stairs, the music grew louder. To her right were two boys performing tricks on a skating ramp. Close to them was the pool table where a girl who looked to be no older than twelve played with boys twice her size. It shocked Allison to see her. She looked up from her game, saw Allison staring, and glared.

"Check it out," Lars said as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "Anything you ladies want, we got. Anything you feel like doin', do it. Ya feel me?"

"Got any cigarettes?" Marcy asked.

Lars grinned and held up two cartons. "Regular or menthols?" He gave her a wink before tossing a carton to a girl in a halter top.

All around them kids between the ages of ten to nineteen ran around the building. Some looked to be much older.

Who were all of these kids and who found them? She wanted to know their stories.

The farther they drifted to the back the heavier the smoke got. Allison's eyes, throat, and nose burned with each breath. In the back sitting at a table with a beer in hand was a large broad-shouldered, blond kid or at least she thought it was a kid. His brown eyes narrowed at Lars when they approached the table.

"Who are these people?" he asked in a deep voice.

Lars fidgeted nervously. "Uh, hey there, Hunter. I brought those new recruits for the Black Dragons."

Hunter's eyes flicked from Lars to the girls. He raised a brow at Allison. "You look familiar."

"I… get that a lot." _The last thing I want is this weirdo knowing where I live._

"Hmmm… are you here to fight?"

"Yes."

"What about her?" Hunter asked, pointing to Marcy.

"She's here to support me."

Hunter scowled. "Why do you need support?"

 _Oh great, now I've made myself look weak._ "Marcy and I do everything together," she quickly explained.

Hunter was rubbing his chin as he thought over her words. He gave her a nod and rose from his chair, revealing just how large he truly was. Allison's heart leapt in her throat. This man was a beast!

"Follow me," Hunter said.

Allison and Marcy exchanged uncertain glances before deciding to follow him. The crowd parted as Hunter made his way to the caged arena. With each step, her legs felt heavier and her stomach twisted into painful knots.

 _I can do this. I can do this._

Her opponent stepped into the ring. He was a large muscular man in his early twenties. His long brown hair hung in his face. Seeing her, he grinned and cracked his knuckles as a way of intimidating her. She forced down her fear and shot him a nasty glare.

"You'll be fighting Wolfgang," Hunter said.

Turning to Hunter with her hands on her hips, she said, "That's my opponent? He's twice my size! I thought I was fighting another chick."

"In the real world, you won't always be up against someone your own size. Men will not always hold back on you just because you're a woman. The strong do not always pity the weak. That's why you need to be prepared to take on someone bigger than you because not everyone will show mercy."

She wanted to protest, but she also knew Hunter was right. Without further argument, she walked towards the ring. A light hand came down on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Marcy whispered in her ear.

"I'm sure. Don't worry, I'll be okay."

With that, she stepped inside the cage. Lars shut the door behind her, locking it. Her opponent circled her as though she were prey.

"You scared, girl?" Wolfgang said with a chuckle.

"Stop yappin' and let's do this!" Allison said.

Wolfgang charged forward. Allison jumped to the side and out of his path. He smacked into the chain-link fencing that surrounded them. He spun around, faced her, and gave a snarl. He rushed for her. This time however, she didn't have time to move out of the way. His fist collided with her cheek, sending her sailing back and into the cage. Blood pooled in her mouth, and for a moment, she thought one of her molars was loose.

"Allison!" Marcy cried. She ran towards the cage, and tried reaching inside, but Lars quickly stopped her. "Let go, she needs my help!"

"No, she doesn't. This is her fight. Don't take away her glory," Lars said.

Swallowing down the blood, Allison pushed herself off the chain-links as Wolfgang came running towards her. He smacked into the cage again and gave a frustrated growl. He swung, she dodged and delivered a kick to his shin. Wolfgang stumbled back, Allison swung her fist and connected with his chin. She gave her hand a shake to relieve the pain in her knuckles. He rubbed the side of his face, seemingly unfazed by her blow.

Frustration welled inside of her. _Why did I agree to this? Shit, this man is gonna kill me!_

Before she had a chance to plan her next move, his fist smashed into her nose, sending her flat on her back. Stars danced across her vision, and pain disoriented her senses. Touching her nose, she winced and saw the blood on her fingers. It was probably broken but she couldn't think about that right now. Somewhere in the crowd, Marcy cried out for her.

Wolfgang loomed over her, a satisfying grin on his face.

"Still think you're one of the men?" Wolfgang asked. He gave a laugh before kicking her hard in the side. "You look good on your back. You should stick to that instead. It's the only thing you'll ever be good at."

She clenched her jaw tight, ignoring the pain surging through it. He readied himself to give her another kick when she rolled out of the way and jumped to her feet. She threw a punch, this time hitting his eye. He cried out and covered his face long enough for her run behind him and delivered a kick to his lower back. Spinning around to face her, Wolfgang scowled. He swung, she dodged, then gave a spin kick to his ribs, making him stumble. Allison kicked him in the side of the knee and landed a blow on his lower stomach.

As adrenaline surged through her, she hardly felt any pain in her hand and legs as she delivered blow after blow to his body. He fell back into the fence; it jiggled and sent a wave through the enclosure. The crowd cheered as Allison struck Wolfgang in the nose, causing blood to pour from his nostrils.

 _I'm actually getting the upper hand!_

As her fist caught his jaw, he brought up his knee, placing a wedge between them. Grabbing her shoulders, Wolfgang threw her off of him with ease. She hit the ground and rolled away from him.

 _Okay, so maybe I'm not getting the upper hand…_

Wolfgang swung and missed Allison by an inch. She lowered herself as he swung at her again. She popped back up and slammed her fist into his cheek. Blood droplets flew from his mouth and speckled the mat.

Allison panted, perspiration beaded on her forehead and temples. She was beginning to feel a throb in her hands and legs and she was certain she pulled a muscle. Dizziness came over her, and her vision blurred.

Panic and frustration rose inside of her. She wanted to win, but that didn't seem possible now. She mentally kicked herself for letting pride get in the way. She should have let herself fully recover but that morning she felt okay. The last time she felt weak was days ago, so she thought she was well enough to fight.

Like a bull seeing red, Wolfgang charged forward, quickly closing in the space between them. Allison tried side stepping, but her knees buckled from the dizziness. His fist collided into her stomach. Falling to the side, she gripped her stomach as she gasped for air. Wolfgang kicked her hard in the side, sending her rolling across the floor.

Gripping the fence, Allison pulled herself up. Sweat dripped down her face and into her eyes. It was getting harder to breathe, but she forced herself to stand straight.

"Allison, you need to tap out," Marcy shouted over the cheering crowd. "You're pale!"

"Yeah, I have to agree with her. You don't look well at all," Lars added.

"I'm fine!" Allison snapped.

Pushing herself off the fence, she charged at Wolfgang, dodged his blow, and delivered a kick to his stomach. He grabbed her ankle and swung her like a bat against the cage. Her head hit one of the poles, sending stars across her vision. The crowd gasped in horror, Marcy and Lars called out to her, and she was suddenly too tired to get up. She closed her eyes and fought the tears that threatened to spill. After all this, she'd failed, and that hurt more than the rising pain in her body.

Her mind screamed at her to get up, to keep going, but her body trembled and her face throbbed and burned. She forced herself onto her hands and knees and tried crawling away from Wolfgang, but he'd caught her easily. With a fistful of hair in his hand, he forced Allison to stand. Her legs wanted to buckle again, but he would allow it. With one final punch to the jaw, Allison's world spun around her and then there was nothing but darkness. The crowd's chanting muffled as she slipped further away.

She'd lost her first match.

When she finally came to, there was a bright light in her face. She waved it away and sat up. Looking around the room, she thought maybe she was in some sort of infirmary.

"Well, she's alive at least," a male voice said.

"But does she need to go to the ER?" Marcy asked.

"I'm fine," Allison groaned.

Talking hurt and she winced as her face throbbed. She reached up and touched it, her nose, jaw, and mouth, wondering which part of her was broken. A boy wearing a Grateful Dead t-shirt hovered over her. He was fair-haired and blue eyed. His face was narrow and familiar. The longer she stared, the more she wondered where she knew him from.

"We had to reset your nose while you were unconscious," the boy explained.

"Do I know you?"

He became uncomfortable by her question. Without answering her, he gave her an ice pack. "Uh, I don't think you do. Anyway, how are you feeling?"

She shrugged. "My face hurts."

"Well yeah! It took a pounding," Lars said.

Hearing Lars' voice made her stomach churn. The last person she wanted to hear was him.

"Why did you do it? What did you have to prove?" Marcy asked.

Allison held the ice pack on her face. "I wanted Lars to shut up."

Lars laughed at her answer.

"Oh my, God, Allison. Don't you realize you could have died tonight?" Marcy continued to chide.

She shrugged it off and slid off the cot. "I wanna go home now."

"Can you walk?" the mysterious kid asked.

In the corner, she spotted Hunter and Wolfgang, arms crossed and eying her. Hunter pushed his bulk off the wall and approached her with Wolfgang behind him.

"You fought well," Hunter said with a dip of his head.

She cocked her head. "But… I lost."

Wolfgang was the one to speak next. "You lost, but gave it everything you had. I gotta respect someone like that." He stuck his hand out to her. "I hope to face off with you again someday."

Hesitantly, she took his hand and shook it. It was surprisingly soft.

It was strange seeing him this nice and calm when less than an hour ago he was trying to kill her.

"Yeah, likewise," she said. _To be honest, I hope I never see you again._

When the spinning dulled, and it stopped hurting as bad, Allison and Marcy left the clubhouse. This time it was her new friend guiding her along in the dark. When they got into the street, she was relieved.

They were a mile up the road when Allison felt dizzy again. She stumbled and fell. Marcy caught her, but went with her.

"You need a doctor," Marcy said.

"No, what I need is ice cream. Rocky road to be exact."

Marcy shook her head in disbelief. "I don't know what to do with you."

"Eat ice cream with me?"

She was getting dizzy again.

Marcy laughed. "Alright, fine but only if you go straight home afterward."

Allison's head rested on Marcy's shoulder. They sat there in the middle of the street late at night with nothing but the stars above them and empty lots around them.

 _Maybe things won't be so bad after all…_

* * *

 **2013**

Mikey's bike rolled up to the chain-link fence surrounding Red Hook. The headlights lit the metal and part of the parking lot beyond. Looking at the tower shrouded in darkness, fear began to prick at his belly. For the hundredth time that night he questioned why he was here.

Truth be told, he didn't know why he was here. There was nothing left that could tell him more about Allison. Still, she had a connection here, even if her mark on this place was long gone.

Taking off his helmet, he scanned the area for anyone prowling around. His research on the place told him that this was a hot spot for the homeless and gangs in the surrounding area. On the plus side, he didn't have to worry about guards or policemen patrolling the building. Reaching into his saddlebags he took out his small duffle bag and withdrew his flashlight. He could really use Donnie's high-tech gear right about now.

After hiding his shell cycle in the tall grass, Mikey slipped on his cloak and jumped the six-foot fence and landed on the other side. He looked back at the gate, proud that he cleared it.

He made his way to the silo, careful not to step on broken glass and other debris. He should have worn his boots, but it was too late now.

When he came upon the entrance, he noticed the large double doors were chained shut. He had a feeling this would happen. Reaching into the duffle bag, he retrieved Donnie's lock picks and went to work. Years of hovering over his nerdy brother had given Mikey a few skills. He heard the click, and the lock was free. The chain slid off the door handles and landed in the dirt.

Mikey pushed on the metal doors. They let out a deep groan that made him cringe. He opened them just enough for his body to slip in. Before he stuck his head in, he took out the asbestos mask and put it on.

Stepping inside, he forced down the fear rising inside him. He wished he came out here in the daylight, but that wasn't possible for someone like him. He moved the flashlight around, looking for any sign of an intruder. So far, nothing.

In the very back of the large building, he saw an upstairs office. Carefully, he made his way to the small room. Twice, he'd almost stepped on broken glass and once, sharp metal scratched his ankle.

 _I need to be more careful. I'm not exactly up to date on my shots._

He reached the stairs, tested his weight on the first few steps, and proceeded towards the office. The floorboards to the office creaked under his weight, making him cringe. He imagined the floor giving out beneath him and the furniture crushing him as he landed on the concrete below. He pushed the thought out of his head. His imagination always got the better of him.

He reached a desk that was probably there since the 70s. The thick layer of dust brought on his allergies. He suppressed a sneeze before opening the top drawer. There was nothing interesting in here except a crumbling receipt from a pizzeria.

Allison's journal entry didn't go into specific details on what happened here. Only that she brought a friend here, fought someone named Wolfgang, and then lost. There was also another name mentioned that stuck out to him: Hunter Mason. She described him as a hulking figure with blond hair. Somewhere in the deepest part of his mind, an image flashed but he couldn't place his finger on who he was thinking of. It left him feeling frustrated.

Of course, there was a mention of a gang called the Black Dragons. That couldn't be the Purple Dragons could it? At what point did they change their name?

He opened another drawer and found a folder containing documents, but none of the papers proved to be of any worth. As he placed them back, he heard a woman talking outside. The voice was faint but clear. Mikey's heart took off, and he quickly ducked down under the desk. A male voice followed, then the woman's voice raising a little before catching herself and speaking softer again.

Now he was curious. Scared, but curious.

He swiftly, but quietly left the office, wondering who these people were.

* * *

 **Finally, finished this chapter. I wanted more Mikey, but I think I'll save the rest of Mikey's adventures for another chapter as I plan on these being short. I'm sorry for the wait. Writing Allison's fight scene took longer than I thought. I am going to go and back and rewrite the beginning so this chapter makes more sense. Also, I apologize if there are any errors here. ProWritingAid and Grammarly are glitching on FFN. Is anyone else having this issue?**

 **Anyway, I'm on Wattpad as well. You can follow AmateurSketch. I upload all my stories there, including my original work.**


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